Wake Up
by Murasaki no Ningyo
Summary: A glimpse of their life after Yuuko, told by Doumeki.


**A/N**: A DouWata fic that is a product of my uncertainty between making an AU and making a post-Yuuko fic. Forgive the bit of OOCness, I wrote them the way I would have wanted them to stay all through out the series. Alas, but people change, even fictional ones.  
>More AN at the bottom. I won't bore you with my rants since I don't think this fic will make up to it.  
>This is just a bit of an ending that I was hoping for, subject to your usual scrutiny dear readers.<p>

ALSO, I've been gone for a long while but thanks to some of my reviewers who gave me a "wake-up call" I have decided to be active in FFnet again. Thank you! This fic is for you and because of your inspiring words Tehetehe and CupidKirby!

Wake up - Coheed and Cambria

**Heads up**: _song lyrics in italics; _timeline is post-Yuuko. Domeki's POV

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters of the story nor the song. I gain no monetary profit from it.

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><p><em>I'm gonna ride this plane<em>

_Out of your life again_

_I wish that I could stay_

_But you argue_

I heard your familiar rants, the music playing in the background was barely audible with all your bickering about how lazy I am, sermons on how dirty our shared room is, flailing here and there for every imperfection your azure eyes glimpse, angry retorts to my every response (the form of response I gave doesn't have anything to do with it, you always find me irritating, verbal, facial or otherwise).

It is always like this. I really don't understand why you have to be so loud all the time. And so gesticulated. And so high-strung.

As if you drown a gallon of coffee instead of one (like the one you have just finished). Maybe I should regulate your intake of that addictive substance and have you resign to tea instead; at least it won't exacerbate you're already incensed features. I tried to point this out, in fewer words to make it clear and precise, but you whipped at me and shook your finger dramatically at my face, telling me that I had no right to tell you what to eat, or drink, or do, or cook. But I must say, I'm warmed to notice that at lunch, along with tamagoyaki (one of my favorites), you had the tea set out, sipping on some Oolong, telling me that it aids digestion and all that. I smiled.

_More than this I wish you could have seen my face_

_In backseat staring out the window_

The wind is blowing pretty harshly, the concrete walls and the shrubs you tended doing nothing to buffer the effect of the angry wind. It looks like Amewarashi's day and I'm standing outside our door.

You drove me out of the shop – again. Because of some "stupid" thing I said. Again. I was only being sensible in pointing out that the tamagoyaki you made tasted different from the one you made a few days ago. I think you took offense in that and assumed way out of proportions. Again. The intensity of your retort was enough to have me putting my pinky at my ear again. Just like those many instances under our tree at school during lunch time with Kunogi.

You hated me doing that. So as an attempt to quieten you, I told you what's different. It was different from the one you made last time because it tasted better. I didn't know why it got you more worked up. Although I must say I enjoyed your blush. I didn't know that complementing your food verbally will make you blush like that. Had I known, I would have done it more often.

I wouldn't mind standing outside in the cold without a jacket and—oh it's raining. And I was granted a view of your pretty blushing face again as you opened the door and held it for me. I was too busy staring at your cute face I forgot to move. And you got angry again. You dragged me inside and held my face, saying it's cold and I'm an idiot for staying outside in the rain (even though you're the one who pushed me out and told me to get lost). I smiled (or smirked, according to you).

You blushed some more, stating that I really am an idiot and a wall to boot. I held your shoulders and inched closer. You're blushing face is really warm, I said. And you blushed more.

_I'll do anything for you_

_Kill anyone for you_

My hands are shaking, my knuckles are red and stinging a bit. The bastard who dared to assault the shopkeeper in his own shop has a set hard jaws . Now that we share an eye, I can see its monstrous form, more like a neck that grew too many heads, or a sick artist's idea of head transplant. I pushed you to the side earlier and now you're tugging my sleeve, telling me to let the thing go. That it was weak and it was only enticed with your alluring soul but it doesn't mean any harm.

Harmless my ass. It wants you and that's harmful enough idiot.

I watched the eyes of the creäture shift fearfully at me and my fist. It seemed to be whimpering, it must be experiencing my warding abilities. It must be in pain right now if the way it moaned and the oozing gooey matter from 2 of its mouth is any indication. Its humanoid hands grasped my wrist, it was shaking as well. But unlike my rage, it was from fear. For all its mouth it can't talk properly. Gurgling sounds are all it makes ( I think I crushed its vocal chords when I grabbed its neck). You forcefully shook me shouting that I'm a stupid idiot and a cruel monster. That got me. I'm not cruel. Not really. But if anything, anyone, tried to harm you in any way, I'll forget being calm and being raised in a temple.

I looked at you and I was shocked to see fear there as well, the way you at looked me had me unclasping my fingers around the creäture's throat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw it scampering away in an odd fashion (did I break its leg? Maybe, precautionary measures when you're in the presence of a walking demon buffet). You're fearful look is still there, as if I'd grab you like I did to that creature. I would never. And you know that. So why be afraid? I asked if you're ok. You're starting to make me worry. And then the look in your face softened. You caressed my face and rubbed my arm, with that heartbreaking beautiful smile of yours.

'It's alright' you said. 'It's gone now', 'it won't come back, I'm OK' you said. And I realized I was still shaking with—I don't know—adrenaline or rage or maybe fear. That had it not been a weak entity it would have hurt you. Or worse. I did not want to think about it. Because next thing, you're hand caressing my cheek trailed up to my head and pulled me down, bringing me in contact with your warm neck, the smell of the ramen we had earlier and the perfume I gave you months ago lingering, calming my senses. I wrapped my hands around you, grateful that you're the one who initiated the embrace, meaning you won't pull away. You kept chanting "it's ok, I'm ok" over and over. As if you wanted to imprint it on my being. I tightened my hold.

_So leave yourself intact_

_Coz I will be coming back_

_In a phrase to cut these lips_

_I love you_

I'm carrying you for the nth time towards our bed. The last encounter with the supernatural drained both of us but it took more from you. A price, I suppose you would say. You're becoming more like that witch—lady—by the day. But I'm quite grateful that it only shows occasionally. I wouldn't have been able to stand you lounging like a contented yet lonely cat on a divan, smoking pipes, all mystery and kimono. I prefer you loud, cooking in the kitchen in an apron and a smock or at our bed moaning and groaning. I laid you down our shared bed, wiping on a trace of sweat, noting how you're perpetual frown relax into a deep slumber.

I took a wash cloth and proceeded to clean away all the dirt and the grime and the caked blood. How many times have I replayed this scenario? Torn between the nagging terror that this might be the last time I'll be carrying your breathing body and the inexplicable relief that last or not, you are breathing and you are with me. After all, there are worst things than death and you taught me that. I am wiping the blood in your hands when it twitched and I know you are awake. I wanted to reprimand you and order you to sleep, to rest, to just leave me with my thoughts and my epiphanies, allow me time to fully digest the fact that you are still with me and you are not going anywhere. But you never did listen to me, didn't you?

Your eyes, those twin orbs (one is mine though) that usually spat fire along with your tongue now blaze with a different flame. And I burn in their depths. Rendered speechless, breathless, and almost in tears by their sincerity, understanding and kindness. The hand I was wiping rose to my cheeks in a gentle, playful slap, as if conveying the words "I'm alright you idiot, we did well" making me close my eyes and inhale your scent, making me place a soft kiss on your fingertips, making me whisper those three words that never fail to paint sunset on your cheeks. And I smile while you stammered that I should get the whole medic box and not just a wash cloth.

_The morning will come_

_In the press of every kiss_

_With your head upon my chest_

The sun is at it again, bathing the plum curtains with its soft light. I must say I did not expect the play of colors that a purple curtain can produce on your alabaster skin. Gently, I adjusted the blankets around you, careful not to rouse you from your sleep. You get cold so easily nowadays, or so you claim as an excuse to snuggle beneath the sheets. Time has indeed mellowed you down. A decade and a half ago, this would only be a product of my dreams. I could still be dreaming, ah but no, you've taught me how to distinguish the dream realm from the material. I learn those things fast. Storing away every bit of information on the supernatural in the very real chance that I might need them. Being your devoted lackey did require astounding skills. I like thinking that I'm the only one capable.

As I watched my hand caress your hair softly, almost as if it wasn't mine, I feel the tugging smile (smirk, as you always say). I brought some strands up, noting they actually grow faster than mine. Maybe I should insist you let it grow? Maybe as long as hers? I wonder how you will take it. I gently leant forward, smelling those few strands and the lingering aroma that pervaded my senses. I shifted closer to smell it, until my nose is touching your cheek. And I breathe your scent in just as you opened your cerulean eye.

"what are you doing you idiot?"

My dimmed smile grew to a full megawatt, the one I reserve only for you. The one that had me crinkling my eyes, the one that unfailingly makes you blush.

I kissed you good morning. And you replied with vigor.

_Where I will annoy you_

_With every waking breath_

_Until you decide to wake up_

Apparently, asking what's for dinner is not the proper way to greet you after a 2-week stay in the hospital. You stomped away, huffing about a healthy meal for sickly old men. I'm not that old. But perhaps the perception of old is different for those who do not age. Also, you see me every night, every afternoon, every time I purposely close my eyes because I knew you'd be waiting for me. The nurses were getting a bit worried with my constant need for sleep, whispering about how dangerous it was to always be snoring or so. Added to the fact that I only had one visitor.

Kohane makes delicious bean pastes now. Your face when I brought you one on one of our rendezvous in the dreamscape was worth the pain of not having my flesh touch yours. It made me like her even more. There are so few individual that can make you smile like that.

But I still own your best smile, and your best glare, and your best yell. Even if that's all I can really claim. The rest of your forever has been promised to a wish. But I take what I can. Such as this.

We sit, and you're still stiff and silent. Adding to the peace of our lunch in the presence of the falling leaves.

"Kimihiro"

You started at your name. I rarely use it. But when you look at me, I realize that apart from your best smile and glare and yell, I own another of yours - your best concerned frown. I'm torn between grabbing you and testing if I can have your best moan or just simply teasing you to get rid of that frown. I settled for the latter.

"You're an idiot. If you start feeling ill, tell me"

"Should I wish it gone?"

"No! But tell me."

"Hn"

"That's not an answer"

"You're worried."

"Of course I am"

"Can you not blush when you say that?"

" Wha- Whats wrong with you?!"

"I'm recovering, don't yell"

"You!"

Again that huff, and I smiled (smirk, you say) in my teacup. Your frown is gone. It's an eternal battle of frowns and yells and I always win. Just like this time. I won over your frowns.

If you must know, I hate your worried silence, they make you less alive in my eyes. A wishful thinking in my part for you are suspended between the living and dreaming realms. But wistful is all I could ever be, don't I?

We finished dinner. And you suddenly held my hand, how did you get there so fast? Or was I just basking too much in your physical presence that I overlook your proximity.

"You have to take care of yourself"

I would have felt warm and happy enough for a year with the amount of concern in your tone, but what stopped me from drowning myself in the joy of your care is the slight wavering of your voice. You're afraid.

Finally, we're on the same page.

"Hn. If so, then let me take care of you too."

Your forehead scrunched to their familiar scowl.

"I let you."

Let me be worried. Let me care. Let me love you. But never let me take care of you.

"Kimihiro"

I tightened my hold on your hand and brought it to my lap. Dropping the teacup, my hand lazily traversed the path from your arm to your chin. Using my thumb and forefinger, I gently squeezed your smooth skin.

"I can take care of us. Let me"

The uncertainty in your eyes as they gazed up mine held the answer that refused to leave your lips. Your scowl conveyed your disapproval at my suggestion. Serendipity struck me, I read you as well as you read me now.

" You don't know what you're asking"

I almost howled in frustration.

"Kimihiro, We've been at it for the last decade. I know what I'm asking"

Have known even before the witch decided to depart, leaving you unprepared, caught off guard. Back then, you would not have welcomed it, would have made excuses and drove me away. But not now. You can't do that anymore. I made sure I am as vital to you as you are to me.

But who am I kidding? You probably don't have an idea of the depth of my devotion. I can only hope you return even a fraction of it. Else, I would die a sad, lonely man.

"Shizuka, I will not take anymore from y-"

" You already have all of me."

There. Misunderstand that, I dare you.

That shut you up pretty well. But it set your eyes ablaze, 1 part fury and 2 parts concern. For my mental well-being I presume.

"Shizuka..." You draw out my name the way I draw out my bow. I set my jaw and prepared myself for the twinge of the arrow.

" Please. Stop making this difficult" The arrow missed its mark. Are you aiming at all?

" I'm not. It is difficult." A fact you cannot deny.

The hand I was not holding grabbed the wrist of my hand holding your chin. For a moment, I dreaded you pulling away to deal with the dishes. But you only held on tighter, your grip making me proud.

"There's no escaping from you isn't there?"

" Hn." Nope. Not a chance in any heaven nor hell.

A smile graced your dainty lips.

" I promised to wait for her"

Remind me again you sadist, why don't you?

" And I swore never to leave you"

Replied the masochist in me.

Slowly, I lean forward. Until your breath tickle my cheeks.

" Let's throw her a party when she comes back"

A touch of lips on lips sealed our agreement.

"I'm going to ask Haruka how to make those sake. You make the liquor"

The fireworks inside my head halted for a second to answer, " and you make the snacks, as usual."

You smiled in the prospect.

"As usual."

_I've earned through hope and faith_

_On the curves around your face_

_That I'm the one you'll hold forever_

_If morning never comes for either one of us_

_Then this I pray to you wherever_

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><p>AN 2.0: I'm back, I suppose. After years of gathering dust on my netbook this fic is finally out and so will the rest of my barely finished fics will be in the coming 2015. There's a subtle change in writing because I wrote half of it 3 years ago and the other half today.  
>So what do you think? Grammar errors aside, plot-wise?<p>

If you feel compelled enough to review then by all means, go on. otherwise I'm content that you wasted time reading this.

Thank you in advance :)

[Listening to Wake Up (obviously)]


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